[ two and a half weeks is what it takes for the a- to be scrawled across the top of his second paper. he'd gone from a solid c to an a- and while it had been simple, it hadn't exactly felt easy. he'd had to remain silent in class for the first few days, dutifully copying down everything from the power point and only answering when professor level told him to. he'd started making up reasons to attend the man's office hours - perching on a chair there and trying desperately to look interested and engaged.
office hours began to turn into walks to the classroom in the sun, an offered lunch here and there. it started to feel an awful lot like pretending, like lying, and while it was hard for tim to stomach, he had to.
for when he wasn't in classes, he spent almost all of his time alone. no one knew who he was - how could they? he wandered from the library to the quad to the cafeteria. occasionally he would get on the bus and go to the public library to get something a little different - to see something more than just white walls. he'd see hawk in passing, when he'd come up in the library or quad and speak to him, but it had all been carefully scripted.
public eye. everything prim and proper, and even tim kept his mouth shut more than usual. the line had been drawn and although he'd liked the game leading up to it, he's not sure any reward will be worth the strange, cold thing that has taken root in his chest. it feels like freshman year, when he'd waded among the throngs of faceless students and tried to find somewhere to land, somewhere for his feet to fall.
he never did find a real foundation, really. nothing more than the quality of his work and the adoration of his professors. the few students he knows talk to him, but tim isn't naive enough to think they like him. he knows better. particularly when they pry for his notes or beg for study sessions right before a big exam.
it's a good thing to get used to, he realizes at some point before he gets his paper back. when he's out of school, there will be no hawkins fuller who sees every facet of him. he will be back in a sea of faces, trying to jump and make his mark. no one will know him, and no one will care.
but it's worth it, isn't it? to try and make a difference in the world?
it's his last office session with craig - who the man insists on being called since now tim is of course one of his prized students - and by the time he gets up to leave he feels utterly exhausted. paper in hand, he wanders down the halls of the building, to the opposite corner.
hawkins fuller's door is open and tim stops for a long time to stare at it. it feels like an eternity, and a tiny part of him cannot help but wonder if when he walks in, if anything will be the same.
it won't be. he knows this. tim fully expects the easy chatter of a professor and student, no lines crossed, no boundaries. they're only a week out before summer exams and they're off into fall semester. he knows the signs when he sees them - the distance, the quiet, the rules set so that tim is carefully displaced so that the fire that had started to roar between them peters out.
but he has the paper in hand when he approaches the door. he's dressed up a little - only because craig insisted he take him to lunch to discuss his paper (which is much improved. fuller was doing you a disservice). it's not jean shorts this time but grey jeans, fitted, and a white button down, a few buttons on the collar left open, the hint of a gold chain and a cross peeking overtop. the free food had been the only redeeming part. ]
Professor Fuller? Sorry - I don't want to interrupt.
[ tim doesn't invite himself in. doesn't cross the distance and settle comfortably in his chair, make some quip about hawk working hard, so on and so on...
he just hopes the a- will truly be enough. ]
I, ah. Was hoping you'd review this paper?
[ it's incredibly foolish, really, that all he wants right now is to be seen. to be heard. to be looked at and understood. nothing he can get from any other professors, from anyone else.
it's sad, really, that there is only one person in this world right now who genuinely knows him - and it won't be long before he's out of reach altogether. ]
If you're busy, I understand. I can come back during the scheduled office hours. I don't want to be a bother.
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office hours began to turn into walks to the classroom in the sun, an offered lunch here and there. it started to feel an awful lot like pretending, like lying, and while it was hard for tim to stomach, he had to.
for when he wasn't in classes, he spent almost all of his time alone. no one knew who he was - how could they? he wandered from the library to the quad to the cafeteria. occasionally he would get on the bus and go to the public library to get something a little different - to see something more than just white walls. he'd see hawk in passing, when he'd come up in the library or quad and speak to him, but it had all been carefully scripted.
public eye. everything prim and proper, and even tim kept his mouth shut more than usual. the line had been drawn and although he'd liked the game leading up to it, he's not sure any reward will be worth the strange, cold thing that has taken root in his chest. it feels like freshman year, when he'd waded among the throngs of faceless students and tried to find somewhere to land, somewhere for his feet to fall.
he never did find a real foundation, really. nothing more than the quality of his work and the adoration of his professors. the few students he knows talk to him, but tim isn't naive enough to think they like him. he knows better. particularly when they pry for his notes or beg for study sessions right before a big exam.
it's a good thing to get used to, he realizes at some point before he gets his paper back. when he's out of school, there will be no hawkins fuller who sees every facet of him. he will be back in a sea of faces, trying to jump and make his mark. no one will know him, and no one will care.
but it's worth it, isn't it? to try and make a difference in the world?
it's his last office session with craig - who the man insists on being called since now tim is of course one of his prized students - and by the time he gets up to leave he feels utterly exhausted. paper in hand, he wanders down the halls of the building, to the opposite corner.
hawkins fuller's door is open and tim stops for a long time to stare at it. it feels like an eternity, and a tiny part of him cannot help but wonder if when he walks in, if anything will be the same.
it won't be. he knows this. tim fully expects the easy chatter of a professor and student, no lines crossed, no boundaries. they're only a week out before summer exams and they're off into fall semester. he knows the signs when he sees them - the distance, the quiet, the rules set so that tim is carefully displaced so that the fire that had started to roar between them peters out.
but he has the paper in hand when he approaches the door. he's dressed up a little - only because craig insisted he take him to lunch to discuss his paper (which is much improved. fuller was doing you a disservice). it's not jean shorts this time but grey jeans, fitted, and a white button down, a few buttons on the collar left open, the hint of a gold chain and a cross peeking overtop. the free food had been the only redeeming part. ]
Professor Fuller? Sorry - I don't want to interrupt.
[ tim doesn't invite himself in. doesn't cross the distance and settle comfortably in his chair, make some quip about hawk working hard, so on and so on...
he just hopes the a- will truly be enough. ]
I, ah. Was hoping you'd review this paper?
[ it's incredibly foolish, really, that all he wants right now is to be seen. to be heard. to be looked at and understood. nothing he can get from any other professors, from anyone else.
it's sad, really, that there is only one person in this world right now who genuinely knows him - and it won't be long before he's out of reach altogether. ]
If you're busy, I understand. I can come back during the scheduled office hours. I don't want to be a bother.